<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Amber and ashes by Mallorn</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30035604">Amber and ashes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mallorn/pseuds/Mallorn'>Mallorn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Eskel's heart belongs to Geralt, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, This is mostly M/F, although the M/M relationship is the most important one, barely verbal Geralt, reader POV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:41:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,820</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30035604</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mallorn/pseuds/Mallorn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When in Novigrad, Eskel likes to visit the brothel where you work. You’ve already fallen for him when Geralt turns up and it becomes apparent that the two of them are a lot closer than you first assumed. That doesn’t remain a problem for long.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eskel (The Witcher)/Reader, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel/Reader/Geralt of Rivia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Amber and ashes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story is inspired by just about every Geralt/Eskel fic I’ve read lately (and there are many lovely ones) and with it I’m trying my hand at something with a little M/M in it, while still indulging my insatiable thirst for reader fics.  Expect soft sex, cuddling and general drooling over Witchers. Not even a scrap of plot. </p>
<p>Am posting this with many thanks to my wonderful beta, Cassandra1, and a certain measure of trepidation. I hope I'm not the only Witcher fan to enjoy both M/F and M/M!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There are so many brothels in Novigrad, and such a small chance of seeing a traveller a second time.</p>
<p>The Witcher has visited you before. His appearance makes your breath catch when you see him in the hall haggling with the madam; that is how well you remember him. An ugly scar mars one side of his face, yet it doesn’t take away anything away from his fierce and roguish beauty. The spikes on his striped gambeson speak of danger, just like the swords on his back. Even his eyes evoke fear; the other patrons leave space around him and most of your sisters in service take care not to come too close.</p>
<p>They haven’t seen him smile – if they had, they’d know that Eskel is mild as summer’s breeze. Beneath that fearsome appearance beats a warm heart, steady and slow to anger. When happy, his eyes shine like amber in the sun and there’s nothing better than to be drawn into their radiance, to bask in his attention.</p>
<p>Today he looks beaten, worried, tired. Perhaps it’s just the season – late autumn isn’t a good time to be on the road. Even with hunched shoulders and a tight jaw, Eskel is softly spoken. You cannot make out his words, but something he says agitates the madam and it seems she’s on the verge of throwing him out. She gestures towards the exit. He remains standing by the counter and slams a couple of gleaming coins onto it. With a dramatic sigh, she sweeps them into her pouch and waves him on, towards the stairs.</p>
<p>Leaving your vantage point on the balustrade above the stairs, you hurry into your room. He must be coming to you, he must! Even if he doesn’t remember – why should he, one whore is no different from another – the madam knows who he was with last time. You’re the witchers’ girl now; any of that trade will be sent to you. It’s safer like that, risking one employee at a time. Now, you can smile at how frightened you were the first time. The madam’s harshness towards novices isn’t anything to smile about, but you passed the test.</p>
<p>The stairs creak. Soon the steps stop, right outside your door. The knocking is slow and steady like the beating of his heart – one, two, three.</p>
<p>Seeing him below hasn’t prepared you for the state he’s in. The moment the door closes behind him it’s like Eskel lets go of every pretence of stoicism and he looks exasperated, like what he needs is a hug and a good night’s sleep, rather what men usually pay for.</p>
<p>He lifts his head enough to give you a glance, but his eyes don’t linger. It’s almost like he doesn’t see how temptingly your robe hangs off one shoulder, how it has almost fallen open to reveal everything beneath. </p>
<p>”How can I be of service tonight?” you ask, and cannot help if your voice sounds kind rather than seductive.</p>
<p>“Can… can I kneel for you?”</p>
<p>His request surprises you. Not because nobody’s ever asked for that, but they’re usually regulars, whose tastes are well known, and it’s all a well-rehearsed game. Eskel is honest, his words a raw whisper as he studies you from beneath the curtain of hair that has fallen into his face.</p>
<p>“Please do.”</p>
<p>You sit down on the bed, reaching for a pillow that you place on the floor between your parted legs. Eskel takes the few steps forward and sinks to his knees as if falling, as if the weight on his shoulders becomes too much to bear that very instant. The spikes on his gambeson pose some difficulty and you open your thighs even more to accommodate them. The time to take it off will come, later. Eskel sits back on his heels and tilts his head to the side, leaning his cheek against your thigh.</p>
<p>He looks at you tentatively and you nod. This beautiful, soft-spoken man can do whatever he likes, you’d let him for free. Him showing this vulnerable side feels like a gift.</p>
<p>“Close your eyes,” you whisper. “Relax.”</p>
<p>As he does that, his body shudders and his head rests heavier against your leg. His breathing slows and he almost appears to be asleep.</p>
<p>His hair is thick and much softer than it looks, and as the dark strands glide through your fingers, Eskel makes small, contented noises. There’s so much tenderness in your chest, so many forbidden, useless feelings. He must never know.</p>
<p>“You’re a good man,” you tell him. Perhaps you should have kept quiet, but you need to say <em>something</em>, and that is safe enough.</p>
<p>“Not man,” Eskel grunts and grabs your ankle. “Mutant, monster –”</p>
<p>”Shh,” you interrupt before he can launch into a tirade. “You’re good to me.”</p>
<p>“You don’t know me,” he says and stares at you. “You don’t know what I’ve done.”</p>
<p>“I see how you treat me, a stranger. A whore.”</p>
<p>He clenches his jaw at that.</p>
<p>“The world outside isn’t kind to witchers,” you continue. “I know that. And whatever you’ve done outside stays there. This, here, is for you. Here and now, I am yours.” <em>And you are mine.</em></p>
<p>“I’m still not good,” he mumbles. “I want to rail you. Destroy you, fuck you through the bed until you scream.” He is tense, agitated, yet there’s not much threat in those words. You hear them, or something akin to them, daily.</p>
<p>“We can do anything you like,” you say. “In a little while.”</p>
<p>He nods and puts his head back on your thigh. You continue carding your fingers through his hair, ignoring the pleasant tingle between your legs. His breaths become calm again.</p>
<p>You sit like that for a long time, and then he stirs. Slowly, he raises his head and leans forward, his nose trailing against your inner thigh until he reaches your crotch. He stops there, whether hesitating or just wishing to take in your scent.</p>
<p>“May I?” he rumbles.</p>
<p>“Please,” you tell him breathlessly. He must know he doesn’t need to ask for permission.</p>
<p>He leans forward minutely, and his nose touches your clit. His breath is hot against your nether lips and then he kisses you there, almost reverently. His tongue is demanding, sensuous, but oh so slow. Every drag of it is made to make you feel it, every push, every insistent searching between folds. His hands come up, at first resting on your thighs, then settle on your hips. You bury your hands in his hair again, holding on. He licks and licks and although you peak, he doesn’t stop but laps greedily until you brush a fingertip against his forehead. His attention is on you instantly.</p>
<p>“Tell me what you want, Eskel. What can I give you?”</p>
<p>“More of yourself,” he says as he looks up. “I want to fuck you now.” He ducks down immediately after, as if somehow that was too outrageous a request. Here, in a brothel. You shake your head. Just remembering the previous time, how he pounded into you, makes you even wetter.</p>
<p>“I would very much like that,” you tell him. “Please just take this off.” You tug at his gambeson.</p>
<p>“Oh. Yes. Of course.” The realization seems sudden. He shrugs out of it and flings it over a chair. The heavy garment lands with a thump and makes the chair rattle. “Sorry.”</p>
<p>Next, he opens his belt.</p>
<p>You rub your thighs together at the sight of how he pushes down his breeches and frees his cock. So thick and proud, the fat head already glistening. He runs his hand along it and you cannot help wetting your lips. You want it, now, but you want to taste it, too. And his hands, those sword-calloused, clever fingers capable of so much tenderness.</p>
<p>“Please,” you tell him, not sure of what you’re asking for. “Can I –”</p>
<p>He feeds it to you then, holds it in front of your face and you only have to open your mouth. Ravenous, you close your lips around the head, and the tip of a finger is caught inside your mouth too. Eskel doesn’t seem to mind. His other hand is in your hair now, at the back of your neck, holding you back rather than pushing. Perhaps he isn’t used to enthusiasm, and that’s such a shame.</p>
<p>“Enough,” he grunts, much too soon.</p>
<p>“Really? When we’re having such a good time?” You can’t help teasing him just a little.</p>
<p>His eyes shine with amusement and the next moment you’re on your back in the middle of the bed. He’s kneeling between your legs and you can’t even be annoyed with how he flung you, so effortlessly. The carelessly tied robe has fallen open and he finally seems to notice. He plants one enormous hand on each side of your face and leans down over you with glinting eyes and his lips parted in a snarl that could curdle milk. The next moment he’s smiling. He ducks and plants his lips beneath your ear, gently nipping the skin there.</p>
<p>“I could devour you,” he growls, his voice practically vibrating against your skin.</p>
<p>“Please,” you breathe and squirm against him. “I’m not afraid.”</p>
<p>He shakes his head at that and then his glorious mouth trails over your chest, suckles a nipple into his mouth at the same time as his hand encases your other breast. His back is warm under your hands, hard and strong. The kisses he delivers to your belly are soft enough to tickle, but then he sits back onto his haunches and his beast of a cock bobs in the air. Dusky and glistening, it seems to taunt you. Can’t he see how much you want him?</p>
<p>Eskel’s mouth twitches, displaying that charming canine. He lifts a hand to his mouth and dips his digit and middle finger inside. It’s a languid, unhurried motion that he gives far more time than is needed for such a simple task. Withdrawn, they glisten with saliva.</p>
<p>You hold your breath as he inserts his fingers into you. The intense pleasure washing over you as he pushes in is unexpected, and you tremble with need as he moves them back and forth. Filling you, teasing, touching so well, but never quite where you need him to.</p>
<p>Then, finally, he grabs your hips and pulls you onto his lap, onto his cock.  You sigh with contentment as he bottoms out and begins to drive into you with long, languid strokes, each a perfect, controlled motion.</p>
<p>“More,” you groan. “Don’t hold back.”</p>
<p>“Have to,” he says. “You’re human.”</p>
<p>“A little less holding back, then, if you please. Take your pleasure.”</p>
<p>He gives a tentative thrust, deeper and harder than before.</p>
<p>“Yes,” you whisper. “Yes.”</p>
<p>Another. It’s so good it brings tears to your eyes. It’s so rare to feel like this, cared for and treasured.</p>
<p>“Yes, Eskel. Like that. Please.”</p>
<p>He believes you then. His thrusting becomes less measured, less conscious and turns into raw pounding. You whimper and moan and claw at his back, and even if he doesn’t quite lose himself – it might indeed be too much for you to endure – his earlier hesitation is gone. The bed creaks alarmingly beneath you and the banging of the headboard against the wall is enough to wake up the entire house, but the sounds you tune in on are Eskel’s ragged breathing and the minute grunts he brings forth with each thrust. You try to keep your eyes on him, on his handsome face contorted with pleasure, his eyes blown almost entirely back, but eventually everything whites out as you shake uncontrollably in the most powerful orgasm you’ve experienced since the last time you were with him.</p>
<p>You feel it then, him pushing into a few times more, going tense and then relaxing. A wide grin splits his face and he looks so much at ease that it makes you smile together with him. Your legs are still clasped around his waist and as he attempts to pull back, you cling tighter. He lifts an eyebrow.</p>
<p>“Please stay like this,” you tell him. “Just a little bit longer.”</p>
<p>It doesn’t make sense. The client makes the decision, not you, and besides, you’re usually satisfied when they finish, content with a job well done and ready for some well-deserved rest.</p>
<p>A gentle hand wipes your hair from your forehead and cups your cheek. You cannot help leaning into it, wishing, dreaming of another life, where there’d be more of Eskel’s smile.</p>
<p>Then you hear a sound from the corridor, muffled steps and – whining? A keening sound, barely audible, but very different from the usual talking or laughter from colleagues and clients passing on the way to their own rooms. This sound is stationary.</p>
<p>“Someone is outside,” you say.</p>
<p>“Oh, that’s Geralt,” Eskel replies. ”Don’t mind him, he’s just waiting.”</p>
<p>“For his turn? Has he been standing there the entire time since you entered? You could have -”</p>
<p>You don’t usually accept two men at the same time, but Eskel’s friend, if he asked you to? If this Geralt is anything like Eskel, it could be interesting. Promising. Intriguing enough to let him in without going downstairs first to find out whether he’s paid.</p>
<p>“He likes to listen, sometimes. He’s waiting for me.” Eskel falls silent. “I should go.”</p>
<p>“You’ve paid for the whole night.”</p>
<p>“Trust me, I’d gladly stay, but –” He glances towards the door.</p>
<p>“Geralt. You don’t need to explain.”</p>
<p>“Thank you.”</p>
<p>“Wait, I have a suggestion,” you say before he rises. “Will you stay if I let your Geralt in?”</p>
<p>He nods. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”</p>
<p>Leaving Eskel on the bed, you go to open.</p>
<p>Geralt walks in, pale and grey. His eyes are wild at first, staring, immediately drawn to the bed. Eskel gives a lazy wave, and after a few long moments Geralt looks at you instead. He says nothing, just stares rather intensely at your breasts. It’s a bit unnerving.</p>
<p>As Eskel beckons, you return to the bed and settle back against his warm chest. Geralt remains by the door. Watching. Then he makes that sound again, a pitiful whine that goes against his entire stature. A hardened killer, a man who carries an air of death with him, and he sounds like a small animal begging to be petted.</p>
<p>You cast a glance at Eskel, who shrugs, smiling.</p>
<p>“Come here,” you say quietly, holding out your hand as you would to let an anxious cat sniff you before you try to stroke it.</p>
<p>Geralt approaches with caution and stops a few steps from the bed.</p>
<p>“What can I do for you?” you ask him.</p>
<p>“Hm,” he says after a long, unnerving silence, only broken by the sound of Eskel mouthing your neck while he plays with your nipples. Geralt continues to stare, his eyes following Eskel’s fingers.</p>
<p>“Please,” you say to Geralt. “Tell me what you need.”</p>
<p>“Kiss,” he rasps, and then “Eskel.”</p>
<p>Eskel lifts his head. “Come, wolf. We’ll take care of you.”</p>
<p>You back further against Eskel, making room on the bed, but Geralt hesitates.</p>
<p>“No coin,” he mumbles.</p>
<p>“Eskel’s paid already,” you say. It isn’t technically true, but you don’t need more than he’s already given you.</p>
<p>Geralt lifts an eyebrow, and you see Eskel shrug, smiling.</p>
<p>That’s all Geralt needs to see. He drops his belongings on the floor – saddlebags and armour and what not – and with two strides he’s joined you and Eskel on the bed. He’s still in his half-buttoned shirt and breeches so tight he could be fined for indecency.</p>
<p>It’s not you he’s interested in, not primarily. That becomes abundantly clear as Geralt bends over you to reach for Eskel, clasping his upper arm with a bruising grip. Eskel lifts his head and leans his forehead against Geralt’s, his hand resting gently on the back of Geralt’s neck. Both close their eyes, their chests heave in unison, slowly and powerfully and for a long time they do nothing but hold each other close. They open their eyes. Eskel smiles first, then Geralt’s thin mouth widens into a grin, and then –. Their first kiss is hungry, two predators fighting over a piece of meat. Geralt has the upper hand, by way of his position, but Eskel pulls him down over himself, keeping his hold of Geralt’s neck until Geralt stills.</p>
<p>It doesn’t matter that neither of them cares about you. The view, from where you lie on your back between them, is exquisite. Their next kiss is poetic, so soft it makes you ache. Simply imagining to be at the receiving end of such tenderness, such love. There is no other word for it. Geralt laps at Eskel’s lips and the sound that comes from Eskel’s throat is a whimper.</p>
<p>Geralt dives into Eskel’s arms, throwing his long legs over you as if you’re just a minor hindrance on the way towards his goal. Within moments, Eskel has him divested of his shirt, and his breeches tugged down enough to free his cock. Geralt is humping him and if the bed wasn’t yours, this would be a good time to allow them some privacy.</p>
<p>“There’s oil in the drawer,” you tell Eskel.</p>
<p>You sit up and throw your legs over the side of the bed, turning your back to them. At least that much you can do. It’s not your fault they take some time, and that you happen to see Eskel’s hand curled around both their cocks when you turn to check if they’re done. There’s so much kissing, and grunting, and very tender sighing as your silly, frivolous dreams are ground to dust. And yet, you cannot leave the bed, nor be upset.  </p>
<p>Afterwards, when Eskel’s fingers gliding down your spine encourage you to turn, they lie there, boneless, side by side. Geralt’s head is resting on Eskel’s shoulder, his hair spread out like a halo.</p>
<p>“M sorry,” Eskel says. “I’ve repaid kindness with rudeness. It’s just  –.” A shiver ripples through him as Geralt runs his hand over his arm. “We’re close,” Eskel starts anew. “Don’t meet much along the Path. Witcher’s work is solitary, and then he’s here.” He clasps Geralt’s hand, twining their fingers together.</p>
<p>“How?” you ask Geralt, for a moment catching his gaze when he drags it away from Eskel. “How did you find him?”</p>
<p>“Smelt him,” Geralt mutters, and then adds, prompted by Eskel’s huffing, “Heard there was another witcher in town, sniffed around a bit, found out he was here.” He deposits another kiss on Eskel’s mouth, then an entire trail of them down his neck.</p>
<p>“Tis a good place to be,” Eskel continues. “The best in Novigrad.” He looks so serious it makes you smile. “Come here.” He stretches out the arm not occupied by Geralt and it takes just an instant to feel safe, wrapped up in Eskel.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Grey morning light filters through the dirty window, painting everything a softer shade. Such mornings are better; they’re less of a reminder of the tasks you ought to carry out rather than slouching in bed. Today it’s allowed. You have company still, and even if the night is technically over, Eskel is welcome to put the remainder of his time to good use. If you weren’t still wet from last night, you’d become so in an instant, from that smile alone. His features look softer like this, almost a reflection of his soul.</p>
<p>They have changed places during the night. Geralt is behind you now, pressing up against you with unexpected fervour. He breathes hot air against your neck, mouthing and nipping the skin as he palms your breast. Eskel is lying on his side with his head rested in one hand. The other traces feather-light patterns over your skin, skirting around Geralt’s fingers. Can’t he see you’re aching for so much more already?</p>
<p>There’s nothing teasing about the cock poking insistently at your backside. Pushing back against it earns you a satisfying grunt from Geralt. Eskel no longer smiles. His eyes are narrow slits and his lips are pulled apart in a snarl that would be frightening if you didn’t already know what he looks like when he <em>wants</em>. The realization makes you push harder against Geralt, but the satisfaction from it is brief.  </p>
<p>Eskel’s hand drops lower, petting at the junction of your thighs. He cards through the hair there, calmly, until you can’t help arching into him, pressing against his hand. Questing fingers brush against your nub, circle it and worry it, only to dip between your folds when you’re ready to beg for more. He does it again, and again, and stops only when you absolutely cannot bear it any longer and press his hand against your core.</p>
<p>A ‘hm’ is mouthed into your ear, a question. You lift your upper leg a little and Geralt’s hand on your chest is replaced by Eskel’s as Geralt guides himself into you from behind. He rocks into you lazily, making each slow thrust count. Eskel drags his tongue over your nipple and you moan.</p>
<p>After that, it’s a matter of minutes. For you, that is. Geralt is not in a hurry, and Eskel –</p>
<p>“Come here,” you tell him, tugging his hair gently. “Up.”</p>
<p>He sees it then, the potential of your position, and kneels close enough for you to reach him. He sucks his breath in when you close your hand around his shaft and take the fat head into your mouth.  </p>
<p>Geralt shifts, too, kneeling up and straddling your leg, and when he enters you again you can only moan around Eskel’s cock. Geralt fucks you faster now, harder, and you try to focus on Eskel, and to hold back your own pleasure until they’ve taken theirs. Vaguely, you hear them kiss above you, growling softly into each other’s mouths. The first salty drop falls onto your tongue and then you just can’t hold back any longer. You cling to Eskel’s leg, trembling, having only your profession to thank for your ability to swallow most of what he gives you. Geralt pulls out, leaving a quickly cooling trail on your thigh.</p>
<p>You will undoubtedly regret it later, but for now, you pull a sheet over yourself and close your eyes. Only for a moment, while they dress. Their voices are a soft murmur, and, at some point, lips brush against your hand.</p>
<p>When you wake up again, the witchers are gone. Sunlight fills the room, highlighting the dust dancing in the air and how much the window needs cleaning. There are wet spots in the bed and on the pillow, your thighs are sticky, and your mouth –</p>
<p>Still, life isn’t that bad. Even if none of the men that come to your bed are yours to keep – something you’re often glad for – there are a few that leave impressions you’ll cherish for a long time.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>